


Breathe For Me.

by godly



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Angst, M/M, main character injury, parapalegic fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:57:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godly/pseuds/godly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Louis gets in an accident he fears losing more than just his legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe For Me.

Droopy lids, shaggy hair, blood shot eyes, and camera flashes.  
“Louis! Louis! El! Over here! Look this way! How was your trip?”  
Coffee breath, crowded room, forced affection, and more flashes. He pushed out of the mass of bodies and onto the private train car. Soft floors, tinted windows, and rickety walls. The train was as cold a the dew filled, brittle wind that nipped outside.  
“Tea or coffee, Mr. Tomlinson?” A cordial service woman asked pushing a trolley down the uneven aisle. Louis declined.  
“Neither, just a nap. Please.” His voice cracks, he knows he doesn't need to be asking the attendant for the silence but he just feels so desperate and small.  
A shiver traced his spine, not from the cold, but he still instinctively grabbed the blue blanket and curled in on himself.  
“Do you want me to sit with you.” a whisper asks. The blue eyed boy shakes his head and gets a sigh of relief in return, “I deserve a grammy for this.” He could hear the frustration in her voice. Eleanor took as much grief as anyone, it was just as difficult for her but she never got the credit.  
“El,” Lou gave a strained whisper before she could walk away, “Thank you.”

It had been a long two weeks of pretending. Clusters of fans approaching, and acting for the media. Two weeks away from the boys, two weeks away from Harry, two weeks of torture. His back was sore and his head was spinning, getting drunk was the only way he had been able to make it through the carefully crafted fake vacation, however it still wasn't enough to stop a single rumor. He sighed in defeat as he laid his head against the rest sending Harry a text that he was finally coming back to him and receiving an “I miss you. I love you.” In return before a griefing sleep overwhelmed him.

*

A loud screech of metal on metal cut Lou’s dreams of Harry premature. A painfully desperate wail caused Louis to jostle.

“El, what's happening?!” He shouted over the squealing as he saw the sparks fly from the tracks below and the ground underneath him lurched, Louis hit his head.

*

The next conscious hours came in dark hazy lapses. Louis could hear the sirens and could see a bright light burning at his irises.   
“Son can you tell me your name, age, and date of birth please?” a paramedic asked as Louis’s mind whirred. Talking was difficult and came in groggy wheezes.   
“Louis Tomlinson...22...December 24” He moaned in pain.  
“Can you move your feet for me?”  
“Yes.” He panted.  
“Move your legs for me Louis. Come on.” A hint of worry edged into his steeled voice.  
“I am” he cried, but he wasn't.  
His body tingled and his head fuzzed. He could feel a warm trickle of blood near his forehead as the paramedics swarmed around him, finally attempting to move him into the ambulance after being prodded and wired in.  
“Squeeze my fingers Mr. Tomlinson.” Another one of the four doctors that floated around his disheveled body commanded.  
“Where’s Eleanor?” He breathed as a wave of blackness overtook him once again leaving him with the thought,   
“I’m going to die.”

*

His eyelids were too heavy to open, but he knew he wasn't dead because when you are dead you don't have this much pain. He could hear the rhythmic beat of machines. Louis’s entire body was fuzzy and sore. His head hurt and he didn't know where he was, Louis began to flail his arms in panic only causing more shoots of pain throughout his torso. The bullets of ache caused Louis to gasp, however his breathing had been overtaken by the tube inserted in his mouth and the brunette gagged and choked. He can't control his breathing, he can't control his body, he can't control his tears either. His panic only ceases once a nurse shoots a sedative into his arm, his breathing shifts as he blacks out.

*

The next time he wakes up the breathing tube has been removed from his mouth but his entire body is numb. Louis begins to scream. He howls and yells until his voice is red raw and breaking, another nurse comes in to put him under.

*

A few more hazy lapses of half-sleep half-wake experiences later before he has finally managed to open his eyes, the lights have been dimmed and his vision blurred. A swarm of doctors and nurses immediately surround him the moment he makes a effulgent move.   
Poking and prodding, taking notes, checking stitches. A straw is placed into his mouth to parch his dried throat. Louis still aches, but less now. He can see the morphine drip and feel it's generosity coursing its way through his veins.

There are so many questions that Louis’s groggy mind attempts to process.

“Is Eleanor alive?”   
“Where’s Harry?”   
“Where are the boys?”  
“Where is my family?”  
“What happened?”   
“How am I alive?”

A doctor puts a hand on Louis’s shoulder gently. His voice is soft and sincere.  
“Just know that you are very, very lucky to be alive.” Louis nods at the man’s words, “ Just rest up and you will see your family soon.”


End file.
